


Snow Bun(ny?)

by notoriousjae



Series: Marshfield Drabbles [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 00:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoriousjae/pseuds/notoriousjae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max kind of focuses a little too much on Kate's hair, sometimes; A series of Marshfield prompts (ranging from cute to cuter) that turned into drabbles. (G for Jesus).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Bun(ny?)

**Author's Note:**

> A bunch of people have sent in Marshfield drabbles to my [ Tumblr](http://begonefoulsoftdrink.tumblr.com), so I figured I might as well post them here. Just because.  
>  **This drabble: Snow.**

 

The snow catches in Kate Marsh’s hair like Max imagines her fingers have to catch in it, sometimes. Kate’s always pushing it up--up and away, perfectly puffed and fluffed in a bun, nails maybe catching on a snag here or there--and she wonders if this is God’s way of catching his fingers in it, too.

She knows how Kate likes to keep her bun.

Max fell asleep on Kate’s dormitory bed, once. Underneath a stack of homework and late night tests (using poor grades and study habits like a warm, toasty blanket) while Kate slept in the chair to let her friend sprawl out on the bed, always too kind and thoughtful and quiet. And when Max woke up, stretching underneath warmth and sunlight and the hint scent of the beachwood candles Kate’s finally started lighting in the small space, again, she watched Kate do her hair like her friend was at church. Like it was this ritualistic, caring thing. And, man, Max’s fallen asleep on a lot of beds at Blackwell (it’s not as T.J _Hooker_ ish as it sounds, really) and she’s pretty sure watching Kate in the morning is her favorite.  

Victoria likes to slick her hair back with product and a meticulous comb. Dana likes to smooth and smooth and smooth fingers through until she irons it and it lays like curtains of silk around her shoulders. Taylor does her hair the night before and stares at herself in the girl’s bathroom mirror with a hairbrush until every hair is even. Alyssa lets it hang dry and then shakes her fingers in it like she’s in a grunge salon.

Kate?

Kate spends more time brushing her bunny than she brushes her hair. Which doesn’t mean she doesn’t brush it--because she does--but the moment it’s done, she moves onto caring about someone else. And it’s just so...Kate. All of it is. 

Kate pins strands up like she doesn’t want people to pay attention to it, doesn’t want the hair framing her face--doesn’t want the world to look at her through long lashes or blonde cascading waterfalls--and carefully presses down the front of her cardigan like a crease might showcase the circles that used to be under her eyes, or the faint crinkle of her brow when she talks. And the bun? Max is far from an ace student, but she’s pretty sure it’s geometrically perfect. She’s pretty sure Kate’s meticulously-crafted halo of hair is _structurally sound_ , or something, like Kate builds a temple with ink-stained fingers and it’s so strange to Max, sometimes, that she tries to hide all of that hair up when she knows Kate can paint watercolors out of the world. But...the moment it’s up, Kate turns away from the mirror and she picks up her bunny and holds him and smiles at Max so quiet and caring that the other girl can only stare for a second and...then smile back, groggily wiping a wrist underneath her eye.

Max doesn’t do anything to her hair. Max sort of just leaves it be and Kate never says anything about that, either (not like Victoria or Taylor or Dana), just asks if she wants tea and helps tug her out from underneath an overwhelming avalanche of half-filled homework pages and smiles. 

And, okay, yeah, maybe it’s a little weird that Max...spends a lot of time thinking about Kate’s hair. Like, just sometimes when she’s zoning out at class, she’ll wonder how she gets it so _high_ when she doesn’t do anything to it, really; she wonders if it’s soft when it’s been up, all day, or if it’s smooth; she wonders how it hangs down Kate’s face, when she lets it loose, or if Kate ever does let it down anywhere that isn’t, like...the girl’s showers.

Or maybe if she lets it down in her room when she doesn’t have photographers snoring in her bed. 

And it’s no real surprise that Max gets a little distracted when it snows, one day, while they’re walking to lunch. It doesn’t snow a lot--not in Arcadia Bay, not really--but when the heavens open up and a mist hangs in the sky and Kate, dipping her chin back to smile like a kid caught in a rainstorm who loves to jump in puddles,  _beams_ , it’s not the snow that distracts her. It’s the way the snow dances in the air before getting caught in the curve of Kate’s hair. It’s the way cold water catches on cheeks warm enough to melt it--the way Kate’s eyelashes flutter and then close and... 

She’s kind of beautiful, like this. Okay, not kind of, Kate just is. Kate’s beautiful in the way that...sunrises are beautiful. Like something warm and radiant peaking out over a still sea of blue, and it’s what Max has always imagined whenever Kate talks about church--she’s imagined this. This look on Kate’s face. This sort of warmth and peace from her friend, some kind of gentle acceptance of the world around them. She imagines faith like the way Kate’s lips part and when Kate smiles Max could maybe believe in God just because Kate looks like she does so much, right here--right now--in the middle of the Blackwell courtyard. 

The brunette quietly lifts her camera up to take a picture of it.

It snows a lot in Seattle and it never snows in Arcadia Bay and Max wonders what Kate would look like making a snow angel. Wonders what Kate would do if she told her how beautiful she looked--if she leaned forward and brushed the snow off her cheeks instead of letting God do it for her.

“Oh.” Kate laughs and looks down, a little stunned at the click, a hint of red dusting trails up her cheeks. “Max.” It’s a nearly fond chide, but no judgement or annoyance there. Just that warm look in Kate’s eyes and snow clinging to her hair. A strand of hair falls out of that meticulous bun and before Max knows what she’s doing, she’s tucking it behind her ear, offering a friendly, kind smile in return. Because she’s never going to shake out Kate’s bun for her and Kate’s cheeks grow a little redder, nodding thanks, reaching out and taking that hand that doesn’t have a camera in it. “Come on, it’s your turn to pick the tea.” 

The snow keeps falling and Max just lowers her camera and follows after her, still wondering how in the world her hair is seriously so _high,_ amazed by the fact that the snow doesn’t flatten it...just kind of highlights it. Highlights Kate’s soft features like the perfect lighting.

Max guesses God’s got a knack for this kind of thing.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” 

This time when Max falls asleep on Kate’s bed under a slightly-smaller stack of papers, Kate lays down next to her and when Max blearily picks wayward strands of snow out of her hair that somehow didn’t melt, the blonde just smiles and rests her head on her shoulder and falls asleep with her.


End file.
